


Force

by ccleverr



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b, ? - Freeform, Angst, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, No Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Realization, bit of, breaking the ice, first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccleverr/pseuds/ccleverr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've not written a fanfic in a while. Just a short fic based on this tumblr text post:<br/>http://radvera.tumblr.com/post/99762958126</p><p>Sherlock and John are arguing and they each realize something about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Force

Sherlock arrived back at the flat before John, which wasn't a surprise. He had solved the case, and he was in no mood to have John critique his performance. For as many times John exclaimed, "Brilliant!" or "Fantastic!" or any number of phrases, he spewed just as many bursts of anger or disappointment. 

Sherlock didn't like to disappoint John. He counted it as a failure that, even when he had solved the case, John wasn't congratulating or praising the detective. 

Sherlock slammed his bedroom door and collapsed onto the bed, realizing belatedly that John wasn't even at the flat to hear the door slam. Sherlock's anger rose. He enjoyed getting a reaction out of John. As much as he despised disappointing his friend, he would do nearly anything to receive attention from him. Of course, he would never _admit_ that to John, but it was a fact.

Just then, he heard the door to the flat slam abruptly. John was home. A rush of adrenaline flooded through Sherlock, and he rose, going to his bedroom door and taking a deep breath before flinging the door open.

To come face to face with John Watson. 

"John," Sherlock said.

"Oh, good, you remember my name? I thought you had forgotten me completely!"

"John, you know I get lost in my mind palace-"

John rolled his eyes. "No. No, it isn't that. This isn't about not blocking out the world anymore. It's about being a decent fucking human being while you're on a bloody case!"

"The work gets done either way! There's nothing more to it, is there?" Sherlock pushed past John and strode down the hall to the kitchen.

"Here we go again... Look, Sherlock, I don't know what goes on in your head-"

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" Sherlock cast John a snarky smile before changing course and going to fling himself on the sofa. 

"What does that mean?"

Sherlock didn't respond.

"Oh, for fuck's sake... I'm supposed to figure this one out too, am I?"

"There's only one puzzle for you to sort, Mr. Watson," Sherlock retorted, trying to hold back on the bite in his voice. 

"My god, Sherlock! My life does not revolve around you!" John ignored the temporarily hurt expression on Sherlock's face and let his voice crescendo so that it bounced off the walls. "The solution is that I ought to take the time to figure out what's going on inside your head? Yeah?"

Sherlock remained silent.

"Sherlock, answer me!"

"Yes! Fine, yes! But I'm not a bloody child, John. I don't depend on others; you know this. That drug ring tonight only needed a single mind to bring it down."

"A single mind, maybe, but you've got to have people looking out for your body! One of these days you're going to wind up pretty well banged up-"

"Oh, and I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, maybe I would!"

"Sentiment. Again. That's what this is all about?" Sherlock's voice remained level, but the tone grew increasingly bitter as he sat up and stared daggers into John. 

"I just thought after all the years of us being mates, you would have been more inclined to rely on me."

"I'm letting you off easy, John."

"No, you're not! No, you're bloody not!" John roared, and Sherlock swore he could hear the walls shake. "This may be repulsive to you, but I'd actually like to know how you feel every now and again!"

"Sentiment."

"Yes, sentiment, you twat! God, you don't give a shit about me, do you?"

"What the hell are you on about?!"

"What the bloody fuck do you think I'm on about?!" John felt tears sting his burning eyes. "Have you been listening to me at all?"

"Despite your assumptions, I'm not a total moron, John." Sherlock stated, his jaw set. 

"So, tell me then!" John cried, flinging his arms in the air in desperation. "What the hell is going on?!"

"I'm in love with you!" Sherlock's voice rang through the room for what seemed like ages. 

John stilled, slowly bringing his eyes to meet Sherlock's. 

"You're-" John croaked out, then cleared his throat. His voice was the smallest whisper as he continued, "You're in love with me?"

Sherlock rapidly searched his vocabulary for an eloquent response, but only could come up with the simple phrase: "A bit."

"Just a bit?" John chuckled nervously.

"I... find it very difficult to... to phrase... um..." Sherlock's eyes began to glaze over. 

"Sherlock?"

"What did I say?" 

"What?" John furrowed his brow, his thoughts jumping all around the room.

"What have I told you?" Sherlock looked absolutely frantic, now, his eyes unable to focus on any one thing. 

"Well..." John began nervously. "You said you were in love with me. A bit."

"Is that all?" A look of relief settled onto Sherlock's face.

"What do you mean?"

"I've formed some interesting professions of... sentiment... over the past few minutes or so..."

"While we've been having this argument, you've been trying to tell me how you feel?"

"Oh. No. Maybe it was just a few seconds. My mind is moving too fast."

"Maybe you'd like to tell me some of the thoughts you've just had."

"Well." Sherlock attempted to begin.

"Yes?"

"I'm in love with you."

"Yes."

"And... um... I suppose I didn't want to admit it to myself, because, you know, sent-"

"Sentiment. Got it. Continue."

"But I am very fond of you; I've always known that. I didn't know I loved you. If I had known, I probably would not have said all that out loud."

"I'm glad you did."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm glad you told me," John decided pensively.

"Why?"

"Why do you think, you bloody wanker?"

Sherlock broke into a grin and stood. There was a sudden electricity in the room. Sherlock didn't want to touch John for fear of breaking whatever force of nature had kept them apart for so long, but apparently John was a little braver, and he slid his fingers through Sherlock's.

The two men held hands in the middle of their living room, and every last thought about their argument went out the window.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think of this! I know it is quite brief and it was not thought out on my part- I just wrote it on the spot, so it isn't my best, but I hope someone out there enjoys it nonetheless!


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